


Endless Favors

by psychosomatic86



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: AgedUp!Dipper and Mabel, Bipper, Blood, F/M, Gore, M/M, Mabill, Manipulation, Possession, Protective Siblings, like REALLY dark, really dark shit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-26
Updated: 2015-10-24
Packaged: 2018-04-23 08:21:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 20,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4869896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/psychosomatic86/pseuds/psychosomatic86
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"How many times has he sacrificed for you? And when have you ever returned the favor?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Favors Owed, Favors Fulfilled

**Author's Note:**

  * For [slytherintbh](https://archiveofourown.org/users/slytherintbh/gifts).



> For the bae who loves what a manipulative asshole Bill can be.
> 
> Nearly three years on, and there’s fanart!
> 
> Thank you so much to the incredible Amaterasuofthesun, this is fucking beautiful my dude: https://amaterasuofthesun.deviantart.com/art/Endless-Favors-GF-Painting-733428177

Fir s͞t͘, the silence. That's u̜̝̹̠ͧ͛̏̒̒̚̚   sually how these things procee d͎͈̻ͣͮ̆́ͅ.

A dense dread permeated with absolute disbelief as a body, prone and ridged, fails to act. To move. To make any semblance of existence known other than it being where it currently is. The soundless echoes crash through the coppery air, pounding in percussive waves that throb in the other body's ears as it looks on with a horror etched visage, mouth gaped, eyes stretched, and pupils pricked to an impossibly small dilation. So small, in fact, that it seems almost impossible for light to enter and make the sight in front of them known. But no matter this, the body is still not blessed enough to blind itself to the carnage before it, instead cursed to fixate upon the twisted skin, shredded and strained on equally contorted bones and soaked with blood. Blood that gushes in some places but seeps in others. Blood of a hue so dark it might as well be black. Blood that dissolves into the air, the bite of a new penny settling like a kiss on the body's parched tongue, snaking into its nostrils and lungs to poison its selfish breaths. And no matter the fact that it, too, nurses wounds, none such pain can compare to the one the body is only a helpless witness to.

First the silence, and then the sounds.

Starting as a strangled whimper, they soon crescendo to guttural wails and shattering shrieks of absolute agony. The body falls to its scalped knees, eyes brimming with boiling salt that pours down grime and viscera streaked cheeks, dragging the congealed blood into the body's mouth for it to taste the saline copper. Guilty hands, caked with gore and jagged to their merciless fingertips, grip masses of hair, scratching and pulling, searching for a way to rip the anguish from a mind that still refuses to accept it.

The body pulls great heaves of air, chest constricting and contracting as a heart pumps far too much blood far too quickly, setting a pulse that bulges veins under undeserving skin. Falling onto its ragged palms, the body crawls forward, stumbling and shaking, convulsing. It twists to the side and empties the contents of its stomach, a thick mass of gore and bile that burns its throat, dribbles acid down a trembling chin that still can only emit garbled wails and yet only wants to say one thing.

But it cannot.

Forward, onward, closer and closer the body inches, oblivious to all but its target, praying that they are still salvageable, that they can be fixed again, made whole. 

That they will live.

_Please please please please..._

The body does not say this, can only think it for the time being, but there is so little time left to say the things it wants to say.

It mouths the words as it finally reaches the shapeless mass of organic matter, for that is all it is anymore. It no longer holds the beautiful and connected life it had just moments prior. Now, it merely sits and seeps as a pile of flesh and cartilage, features unrecognizable. But then, there is one thing that still distinguishes it.

There always is.

The body collapses next to the one that no longer is, eyes pinched shut, fingers searching. They trail through matted, sticky hair, barely making contact with the skin underneath for fear that the touch will cause more pain but allowing just enough pressure to distinguish the stars.

The body does not cry when it finds the constellation. It never does. From one star to another, it merely caresses the mark on its once living now dead half.

 _"I'm so sorry."_ The body finally whispers, the words croaked and cracked and rasped and wretched.  _"I'm so sorry I'm so sorry I'm so sorry..."_

These are still not the words the body wants to say, but it cannot bring itself to produce the ones that are so definitive, that will acknowledge its crimes and the repercussions and everlasting ramifications. 

It can't.

It can't.

But it must.

_"I'm so sorry..."_

It must.

_"So sorry..."_

It  _must._

The body chances to look at the other, to force itself to realize the consequences. 

To realize that he is gone.

The body looks away and, with one hand remaining among the stars, pulls its knees to its chest because perhaps if it holds itself tight enough, this other star can simply disappear. Collapse in on itself into a singularity of nothing where there is no world for the body to acknowledge the irrefutable truths around and inside of it.

And how brutally these truths mock the body! Jeering at it. Laughing and cajoling and teasing its misery, despite how adamantly it pleads for them to stop. Cursing and crying, begging and bartering, and it is only the latter that finally catches their attention.

 _"Anything..."_ The body sobs.  _"I'll do anything."_

The world seems to still at these requests, or perhaps it was never moving to begin with. The air, previously thick and swirling, cools to a thin layer, and a dreaded expectancy shimmers in place of the copper tint of the permeating blood. And then a voice. A voice like refined sandpaper. Pitched and vicious and so obviously sneering. The voice of a predator that already knows each move its prey will attempt, but plays all the same for its own amusement. 

 _"A n y t h i n g ?"_ It queries, dripping the letters into defeated ears and tears burst from the body's eyes, its entirety convulsing as a fit of terror racks its fragility. 

A spindly hand comes to rest on its shoulder, its grip belying the solace it attempts to convey, and the body wants desperately to pull away, to jerk back from the monster's touch with the disgust that roils within its very soul, but it already knows this will do no good.

It already knows.

 _"C o m e   n o w ,   S h o o t i n g   S t a r ."_ The voice coos, a laciniate fingernail raking down the body's vulnerable cheek.  _"T h e r e ' s   n o   n e e d   t o   c r y .   Y o u   k n o w   t h i s    c a n    b e   r e m e d i e d ."_

_" **No!** "_

The body jolts prostrate, tearing the demon's hands from its face and spanning protective arms across the mangled heap behind it.

_"You are not going to touch him! It's because of you he's d-de-e..."_

But the body cannot bring itself to say the word. 

_"D - D - D e a d ?"_

The demon throws his laughter around the body, wrapping its battered skin in crawling vibrations. 

_"M m ,   b u t   t h e n   t h a t ' s   n o t   c o m p l e t e l y   t r u e ."_

The singular eye narrows in a sly deception.

_"O h   h e ' s   d e a d ,   t o   b e   s u r e ."_

He vanishes only to reappear behind the body, arms crossed against the surface of his geometry in an inquisitive manner as he considers the remains of the broken twin. The body tenses, balling fists and barring teeth, prepared to tear the demon in half if it has to, but his next words cut deep enough to hinder any kind of retaliation.

_"I t ' s   a s   m u c h   y o u r   d o i n g   a s   m i n e   t h a t   P i n e   T r e e   i s   g o n e ,   S h o o t i n g   S t a r ._

_"A s   y o u    w e l l   k n o w ."_ He adds for extra measure, chuckling as he sees the blow this lands on the body's already meek defenses. 

It shakes where it stands, vision swimming with hot tears, legs trembling and fingers loosening and coming to clutch at shivering arms. The body sinks to its knees once more, its head swaying in rhythmic denials as its hands rub methodical motions up and down its skinny arms.

 _"I-I..."_ The body struggles to find the words, but it owes him that. At the very least. Placing quiet hands on his cheeks, it shifts what remains of his head, pulling back his bangs and pressing its forehead to his stars. A dramatic sigh sounds, but the body does not lift its head, will not break the connection. _  
_

Not yet, anyway.

_"A l r i g h t ,   S t a r ,   y o u ' v e   h a d   y o u r   f u n ."_

The body's stomach tightens at the words, and it's not only because of the word choice. It knows what is coming. It knows all too well.

_Please._

Slowly lifting its head, the body glowers at the demon, an invisible, shark-toothed grin splitting his plane, mirth and malice gleaming in his eye. Holding out a hand, blue flames flare to a crackling life, laughing and spitting and hissing their promises and lies that so many have fallen victim to, and that so many will continue to fall victim to over and over again. 

_Forgive me, Dipper._

The body stands, defiant even to its last breaths,

_But I..._

The demon scoffs but does not retract his offer.

_I'll make it right this time._

The body lifts a gore streaked hand, hesitating for only a second before thrusting it deep into the flames that do not burn with heat, but instead blaze with the cold of the sleeping dead that it wishes to bring back. And no matter how many times it endures this, the body never adjusts to the pain, but its fingers lace into the demon's nonetheless, raising its arm and bringing it down in a steady, fluid motion.

_"L e t ' s   m a k e   a   d e a l ."_

_I swear._

Whether or not the body screams as Mabel Pines' soul is torn from it is of no consequence. For if a body screams in the forest and there is no one around to hear, does it really scream at all?


	2. New You, New Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dipper takes easily to his new life. Sadly, the same cannot be said of Mabel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yikes! Sorry this took so long to post! I adore writing, but it is also the bane of my existence, so I hope this chapter doesn't seem too sloppy or confusing. 
> 
> I propose the next and final two chapters to be extremely long, so they might take even longer to get up, but who knows! With a storm keeping me inside all weekend and my masochistic tendency to avoid academic responsibilities, they might be out sooner than anticipated!
> 
> All in all, I hope you enjoy this chapter!

Dipper has never felt so alive.

From the moment he first cracks his eyes open to the sounds of birdsong outside the attic window, he can tell it is going to be an especially exceptional day. Stretching luxuriously, he throws his feet over the side of the bed with a vigor quite unlike any he would usually have this early in the morning. There is an energy, a newness that courses through him, that urges all the way to the tips of his toes. It cajoles him and dangles the promises of the day in front of him so he may take full advantage, and he absolutely intends to for he has never felt so _alive!_

And there is a strangeness to it, yes, but for once, Dipper does not fixate on such an anomaly, instead relishing in his eagerness to take on whatever the world has to offer him on such a gloriously expectant day.

Genuine mirth plastered to his face, he glances to his twin still slumbering peacefully beneath a mountain of worsted and pig limbs. Although, peacefully is a gratuitous adjective on Dipper's part, for the female twin is no such thing. But how is he to discern this? From the way her body rises and falls in quiet breaths, her visage lax and amiable, she is easily mistaken for the epitome of gentle dreamer. Of course, then, Dipper does not want to rouse her from a presumably deep and comfortable sleep, instead choosing to slip quietly from the room as the idea of preparing breakfast for the family suddenly sprouts within his mind.

Admittedly, he does find the impulse to be a bit odd, his cooking skills not exactly up to par with a five star chef, or a two star at that, but he has seen his sister in action enough times that some of her prowess must have worn off. And so it seems to have done just that, even more so than he had assumed, for he easily works his way around the ingredients he procures from the cabinets and refrigerator, a buried talent seeming to reveal itself as deft movements quite unlike his typical clumsy ones guide his hands and utensils to creating a wonderful smelling breakfast that has his Grunkle Stan shuffling, bleary eyed but content, into the kitchen not minutes after he has completed the first stack of pancakes.

"Whoa there, kiddo." The old man chuckles, tousling his nephew's hair as he takes a seat at the table. "Since when can you cook?"

Dipper grins and piles his Grunkle's plate high, a pride blooming in him at the praise.

"I'm not sure." He admits, setting to work on a fresh batch. "I just had this urge, you know?"

"Mm." Stan grunts around a large mouthful. "Impulse is usually Mabel's area of expertise."

"Hmm." Dipper hums in response, tapping his chin thoughtfully with the spatula. He is just now noticing his twin's absence, finding it extremely odd that the smells of breakfast have not yet summoned her. An idea comes quickly to mind and, with a fast grin and faster hands, he whips up a stack of thick, fluffy cakes drenched in as much syrup as can fit on one plate without gushing over the sides, making for the attic stairs as a joy flutters in his chest at the prospect of surprising his favorite sister with breakfast in bed.

"If that spills..." Grunkle Stan warns, brandishing his fork at Dipper's backside as the boy hurries up the stairs, too quick to hear the admonishment. Not that it matters, for Stan's threat is about as empty as his plate almost is, and he finds his only real concern to be when Dipper will return to prepare him seconds.

/⊙\

What is left of Mabel Pines sits exhausted and broken atop a barren hill, head buried in gangly knees as a vicious gale whips through a threadbare sweater and equally tattered body. Thin tears leak from her tired eyes, blurring the world around her when she finally manages to lift her burdened head, though it hardly matters for there is nothing to see anyway, her dreams having long since faded to a vast wasteland of grey-edged nothingness. Had she not been informed that this monochrome hell was, in fact, her dreams, she easily would have confused it for her Mindscape, but then it doesn't matter either way because knowing would do nothing to change the hopeless fact that she is poisoned.

Possessed.

A soul not her own and her consciousness remaining only so that it can be tortured by the acknowledgement of this hideous fact. 

_"T h a t ' s   n o t   a l l   I   k e e p   y o u   a r o u n d   f o r ,   t h o u g h ."_

It's always a different dialogue, but one that always results in the same thing. And yet, out of habit or pure ignorant hope that she can somehow change the outcome, she still engages.  _  
_

_Go away._

A metallic chuckle rips the air as his demonic form circles her, preying and leering, halting just beyond her discernible periphery. She does not give him the satisfaction of shifting her gaze, but this only invites him to move closer. She cannot win.

She never does.

_"C a n ' t ."_ He states matter-of-factly, and then, with vile mirth, _"_ _W o n ' t."_

She screams as he hisses the latter word mere millimeters from her ear, her arms instinctively flailing to shove him away as jets of warm salinity burst from her eyes, but her hands simply phase through his smooth geometry, and she retracts them in a horror she is never able to contain.

Tucking her shivering fingers into her armpits and bringing her knees to her chest, she commences a rhythmic rocking which does absolutely nothing to soothe her.

_Please._ She begs through hiccuping sobs.  _Just stop._

She repeats the plea over and over only to find it directed more at herself than the demon.

_"Y o u   a n d   I   b o t h   k n o w   i t   d o e s n ' t   w o r k   l i k e   t h a t ."_

It is true that it doesn't, but then, it's always in his favor so there is little reason for him to pursue this topic other than the fact that it twists dull knives into her. And he simply _adores_ twisting his victims. 

_"W e   m a d e   a   d e a l .   R e m e m b e r ?"_

_How the hell could I forget?_ She spits, seething at his smug tone.  _How could I forget when you've taken_ everything _from me but the knowledge of_  that _?!_

_"W e l l   t h a t ' s   j u s t   n o t   f a i r ."_  The demon scolds, a mock pout in his chipper voice. "I _h a v e n ' t   t a k e n   a n y t h i n g   f r o m   y o u ."_  His next words cut like ice, turning her hot tears to steam on her hollow cheeks. _  
_

_"Y o u   d i d   t h i s   t o    y o u r s e l f ."_

A grotesque distortion of an arm lays itself across her shoulders, and she loathes that it actually feels comforting.

_"Y o u   c o u l d   h a v e   l e t   h i m   d i e ."_ The demon pursues, working bladed fingertips through the rags of her sweater to caress, with soothing strokes, her bare arm underneath. 

She clamps her tongue between her teeth, drawing blood. Tasting blood. She presses and presses because the blood is all she wants to know, all she can possibly use to distract herself from the sensation of his fingers as they erupt a frisson of gooseflesh across her skin.

_"Y o u   c o u l d   h a v e   l e t   h i m   d i e ."_ The demon purrs in nonchalant musing.  _"B u t   i n s t e a d . . ."_ He grins an invisible malice and digs his nails into her flesh making her yelp and recoil from his false embrace. At least she attempts to.  _"I n s t e a d _y o u   w a n t e d   t o   s a v e   h i m ."__ She squirms where she is forced to sit, struggling against his grip that holds her in place, wanting nothing more than to flee his presence. And not just his presence. This whole world. Her curses and promises and deals. She wants to run until she cannot breath and then crawl until she cannot move, anything to put distance between her and this hellish nightmare.

But there is no escaping when you  _are_ the nightmare _._

_"S h h . . . "_ The demon hisses, hands tight around her arms, sure to leave bruises that will never show in the physical world but are certain to mark her eternally in here. She is not so easily placated, but there is always the chance he will decide the easiest route to be beating her into submission, and she always complies anyway, so what is the point of prolonging the inevitable? _  
_

_"T h e r e ' s   a   g o o d   g i r l ."_ He praises when she finally capitulates, though she is still far from docile. He dances his fingers up her arms and ruffles her hair before she swats him away with threateningly defiant hands. It only serves to elicit a bark of cruel laughter.  _"C u t e ,   S t a r ,   b u t   d o n ' t   y o u   s e e   h o w   m u c h   e a s i e r   i t   i s   f o r   u s   w h e n   y o u ' r e   c o m p l i a n t ?"_

She replies with virulent venom. _There is no_ 'us'  _you sick fuck._

_"O h   d o n ' t   f l a t t e r   y o u r s e l f ."_ He dismisses.  _"I   w a s   t a l k i n g   a b o u t   y o u r   b r o t h e r ."_

Her entirety freezes stiff at the mention of Dipper, the perpetual tears once again pricking the corners of her eyes as the demon continues, his words floating from behind her like toxic gas.

_"T h o u g h ,   y o u   a n d   I   d o   m a k e   q u i t e   t h e   t e a m   w o u l d n ' t   y o u   s a y ?"_

 She closes her eyes, her mouth drawn in tight pain as her shoulders quiver from the exertion of repressing her desire to turn around and shatter the demon's smug plane. 

_Go to hell, Bill Cipher._  Hands and teeth clenched, nails biting into her own, intangible skin. Go _straight to hell._

_"W h a t ,   d o n ' t   y o u   a p p r e c i a t e   w h a t   I ' v e   d o n e   f o r   y o u ?"_

She springs to her feet, stanced to let fists sail though she knows this will do nothing at all, and he does not even flinch. Does he even have the capability to do so? He probably has no need, has probably never faced an adversary worth bothering his facial features for, and she is more than content with being the first to make that happen.

_"W e l l ,   I   c a n   s e e   y o u ' r e   n o t   a s   g r a t e f u l   a s   I   t h o u g h t .   B u t   w h a t   a b o u t   P i n e   T r e e ?"_ His eye gleams with murderous joy, relishing in the rise he is getting out of her, and he knows exactly how to twist the screws even tighter.

Hovering closer, he lids his eye with a sly confidence, suppressing a giggle as he sees her own waver. 

_"S u r e l y   y o u ' r e   t h a n k f u l   o f   w h a t   I ' v e   d o n  e   f o r_ h i m ."

Her entire body quakes with the effort it takes to hold back an all out frenzy of fists and teeth and rage, but it's incredibly difficult as the demon continues to taunt.

_"B u t   t h e n   I   s u p p o s e   i t   d o e s n ' t   m a t t e r   w h e t h e r   y o u   a p p r e c i a t e   t h i s   o r   n o t .   Y o u ' d   d o   a n y t h i n g   t o   k e e p   y o u r   d e a r   b r o t h e r   a l i v e   j u s t   a   b i t   l o n g e r ,   w o u l d n ' t    y o u ."_

He grates the next sentence into her waiting ears, so terrified and yet eager to hear the truth that is the bane of her existence.

_"B e c a u s e   y o u   o w e   h i m   t h a t ,   S h o o t i n g   S t a r. "_

He lifts her chin with a brutally strong finger, boring his single, powerful iris into her two, pathetic ones.

_"Y o u   o w e   h i m   s o   v e r y   m u c h ."_

She shakes her head almost imperceptibly, a slow motion disbelief, warmth seeping down her cheeks from begging eyes as her mouth trembles in terror and despair.

_"Y o u   o w e   q u i t e   a   l o t ,   S t a r ,   a n d    y o u   a l w a y s   w i l l ."_

_N-no..._

_"O h ,   b u t   y e s   m y   s w e e t ,   i g n o r a n t   s l a v e !"_

He retracts his finger from under her chin, but not before leaving a deep gouge that has her crying out in pain and stumbling to her knees as she clutches the fresh blood between quivering fingers. She looks up at him with fractured, pleading vision, but he is absolutely merciless.

_"Y o u   k e e p   t h i n k i n g   y o u   c a n   b e a t   t h i s ,   t h a t   y o u   c a n   w i n ."_

Once more, he floats inches from her face for her to see every hideous detail of his form. It's not nearly as flawless as she had originally perceived, and she can almost see the millenniums worth of blood and souls and horror he has amassed, their hideous and hopeless despairs seeping through cracks just barely visible on his sunlit plane and yet visible enough to show the pieces of hell that actually comprise him. She almost thinks she can see herself, too, but then maybe that's just her reflection.

_I-I will win._

He scoffs.

_It will be different this time._

_"Y o u   k e e p   t e l l i n g   y o u r s e l f   t h a t ."_

He gives a patronizing pat to her cheek, and she jerks her head away, quick to re-engage his eye with a new found defiance. He will  _not_ win. Not this time.

_Stay the hell away from him._

She grinds the words between teeth that promise to rip out throats if they have to. Not that this concerns the demon for he has no such anatomy, and so it doesn't matter if he continues to try her. 

_"B u t   w h a t   w i l l   y o u   d o ,   d e a r   S t a r ,"_ he queries, his tone a foreboding purr, _"w h e n   h e   c o m e s   t o_ m e    _f i r s t ?"_

She does not answer, and it's not because she does not have one, but because she is suddenly thrown from the hellscape of her mental nightmares to the ones of the physical realm by the last person she wants near her at the moment let alone offering her a homemade breakfast.

And as she swallows on rising bile, biting back screams, and shakily meeting her brother's concerned gaze, it is all she can do not to mouth the demon's last words as they crash, echoing forever through her hopeless mind.

_"T o   w h a t   l e n g t h s   w i l l   y o u   g o   t o   p r o t e c t   h i m   t h i s   t i m e ?   T o   p r o t e c t   h i m   f r o m   m e ?   A n d   f r o m   y o u ?   H o w   f a r   a r e   y o u   w i l l i n g   t o   g o ,   S h o o t i n g   S t a r ?   H o w   f a r ?"_

She looks at her brother. Her twin. Her other half who has sacrificed so much for her and who she knows she will never come close to repaying. She looks at her brother and refuses to cry. She looks at her brother, and she loves her brother. She looks at her brother, and she hates herself.

_"ͭ̾ͬ̍͒̚H̐ͧͪ ̿̇̊̀̌o͋͌́̍̉͌̈́ w͊ͦ͐ͮ ͆ ̂́ͯ̍̌̽̚ f ̄̌͋̈́͊̓a̅ͮ̽̇ͣ ͥ̍ͯ͌̀͑̇r͆ ̏?̈́̾̌ͦ͆̋"  
_

_As far as I have to go you son of a bitch._

/-\                   


	3. New You, Old Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A four step guide to managing your demonic possession.  
> 1\. You can't.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a quick little thing to say that I edited a few lines in the prior two chapters. The first edit is in the first line of the first chapter (that's a lot of firsts!), and the second edit is in the second to last line of the second chapter (okay these numerically corresponding edits are completely unintentional and it's freaking me out a bit.) It's not pertinent that you see them, though they are pretty cool, and I think it'll give you more of an ominous feel for the rest of the work.
> 
> (Also listened to this song on repeat whilst writing if any of you care to play while reading: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wCJkr0AQ0XQ It's very unsettling listening to something so cheery while writing something so dark. I love it.)

"Mabel?" 

_Go away go away go away._

"I was just wondering-"

_Go away._

"if maybe you wanted-"

_Go!_

"to come help me investigate this?"

_Please! I don't want to hurt you..._

Knuckles whitening as hands grip tight to stilled needles, the female twin looks up from her knitting at her expectant other half, his eyes wide with anticipation and excitement. He is holding his journal open to a page upon which a detailed sketch is only half completed, an amalgam of strange limbs and bulbous eyes but otherwise no real discernible shape. His latest obsession, she assumes.

Letting air hiss through her teeth in a display of impatience that she doesn't actually feel, she replies stoically.

"No, Dipper, I don't want to help you. Can't you see I'm busy?"

She holds up her needles from which limply hangs a few, tangled rows of garter stitch, a pathetic output considering she has been working for well over a half hour.

It pains her to see his face fall and his shoulders deflate, but it's better this way. 

It _has_ to be.

"Just go by yourself. I'm no help anyway."

She didn't mean for the statement to make him feel guilty, as though she were insinuating she only gets in the way on their excursions into the mysterious forest of the equally mysterious town, but this is how he interprets it, and it is all she can do not to shove him away out of protective instinct as he sits beside her on the bed.

"Don't be that way, Mabes." It seems more a plea than a suggestion as he playfully nudges her shoulder with his, sitting awkwardly thereafter when he feels how rigid she is. "I mean, you're- it's just..." He sighs, lifting his hat to run a hand through his hair, staring at the adjacent wall plastered with posters of his sister's favorite bands and magazine cutouts of handsome celebrities doused in glitter and stuck with paper hearts. He smiles at the zealousness of them, how they embody his sister's childish crushes and impulsive inanity that makes her who she is. Or, who she used to be. He has no idea what has provoked her sudden mood swings, but he does know that she is no longer _her_. And he wants to ask but has yet to find the right conversation to bring the topic up in. Or any conversation at all. She has been avoiding him as of late and so rarely does he get her alone to just talk they used to. 

His mouth pulls down at the corners, the dense gloom of the room once again settling upon him, and he turns to see his twin staring with unseeing eyes at the needles and yarn in her lap. She appears to be in another world altogether, and it takes several iterations of her name to bring her back to the present.

"Mabel? What's going on with you?" He doesn't even test the conversational waters, cutting right to the chase and he nearly regrets this as he sees her begin to retreat into her shell once more. But he is more persistent than he thought.

"Mabel." He states more definitively. "Come on, you've been acting strange for two weeks straight now, and I'm really worried about you."

She shoves her knitting to the side and tucks her knees under her sweater, a saggy, grey thing that he's never seen before, eyes fixed in front of her and refusing to meet Dipper's.

 _"Mmfine."_ She mumbles, mouth veiled behind the sweater's cuff. 

"You say that, but it's not true." He places a tentative hand on her shoulder, still stiff as ever. "You know you can talk to me, right? You can tell me if something's wrong." He is relieved to see the words make a visible impression on her as she turns her head slowly, the signs of a smile starting at the corners of her mouth. Or, not starting. Straining. As though she cannot decided if she wants to or not, and that paired with the sudden wild gape to her eyes makes her entire face look unstably animalistic. He has never known relief to be so short lived.

But then they both blink, and the look is gone, though that still does not mean it was never there.

"Mabel-?"

"I'm just not feeling well, Dipper."

Her words are strung together clumsily, as though it is pertinent she state them as fast as she can. But why?

"Really. It's nothing to do with you." Her arm emerges from the folds of her sweater and rests upon his, and it feels so genuine that his worries are momentarily placated. In fact, everything about the moment is suddenly sweet, her brown eyes, so dead for the past few weeks, now gleaming and imploring. Her touch gentle. Her tone honest. And, stupidly enough, he believes her.

"Okay." He grins, glad to see that there was really nothing for him to worry about at all. "But it's too bad because this creature," he flips open the journal to show her the image up close, "is especially interesting. Plus if it ends up being dangerous, I could just have you blab to it about Sev'ral Timez or something and bore it to death."

He snorts and dodges to avoid her swinging fist, jumping to his feet and out of her reach. She sticks out her tongue, and he reciprocates. The tension of before has melted, and they both feel, if only for a fraction of a second, normal again. 

"I'll be back later, Mabes." He tilts the brim of his hat to her with a wink. "I hope you feel better. Maybe take a nap?"

"Yeah, maybe..." She forces a last smile. "See you soon. Have fun, bro-bro."

Had he not been so quick from the room to examine his precious anomaly, then perhaps Dipper would have noticed how his twin had strained to say his familiar nickname. Perhaps he would have realized from this just how unwell she really is. Perhaps... perhaps a lot of things. Perhaps so many possibilities that only time can reveal.

And reveal it will in a most _spectacular_ fashion.

/⊙\

_"H a v e   f u n ,   b r o - b r o ."_

_Shut up._

_"I  l o v e   y o u ,   b r o - b r o ."_

_Shut up!_

_"A n d   I   c a n ' t   w a i t   t o   h a n d   y o u   o v e r   t o   m y   f a v o r i t e   d e m o n   b e c a u s e   I ' m   a b s o l u t e l y   h e l p l e s s   t o   s t o p   h i m   f r o m   g e t t i n g   w h a t   h e   w a n t s , **b** **r o - b r o** ."_

/⊙\

"Shut **_up_** _!"_

Mabel rips herself from the dreamscape, face stained with tears, vocal chords searing as she screams at the demon. But, in the physical realm, he is not present for her to actually berate.

Cupping her head in her hands, she doubles over, sobbing into her colorless sweater, fingers clenching into her hair, spiking pricks of pain through her scalp. But none such pain can compare to the one that lies just beneath. 

_I just want it to stop. I want you to leave me alone._

Her entirety trembles and shakes, and she barely reaches the bathroom in time before her stomach releases, burying her head in the sink, staining the cream colored porcelain with a vile sludge of this morning's toast and-

_Oh my god._

She braces herself against the edge of the sink, her legs too weak to support her weight on their own. 

_Oh my **god**._

She tries not to look at the blood in the basin, the spattering of red that flecks the rim and pools beside the drain with chunks of half digested bread swimming in its thick crimson, but it is a curse all its own, the human inability to look away from something so disturbing. 

_He-he's killing me from the inside out._

She stumbles and sinks to the floor, her back to the wall, hands to her mouth, aghast and petrified, and she has never felt so utterly hopeless. 

She was so ignorant, so completely and absolutely  _stupid_ to think she could handle this, that letting him in would be something she could control.

_I-I... I don't know... I can't... what do I-_

_"D o ?"_

This isn't right. The voice...

_"W e l l   i s n ' t   t h a t   t h e   m i l l i o n   d o l l a r   q u e s t i o n ."_

It shouldn't be audible. It should be confined to her head and her head only. It shouldn't be able to escape from there. I-It...

_"Y o u   c a n ' t   d o   a n y t h i n g   a b o u t   i t ,   S t a r .   A l l   o f   t h i s   i s   a n   i n e v i t a b i l i t y   t h a t   i s   j u s t   t a k i n g   i t s   t i m e   t o   p a s s ."_

Why are her lips moving? She can feel them forming the words behind her fingers, and they seem to be synchronous with-

 ** _"NO!"_ **

She bolts to her feet and dashes to the mirror, but there is only a split second for her to see the slit irises before he once again takes control.

_"O h   b u t   y e s ,   m y   S h i n i n g   S t a r !"_

She remains fixated in front of the mirror, watching as her lips twist and snarl, her teeth barring and gnashing the words in a guttural sneer. But then these are not the correct pronouns, for she is not Mabel at this moment. She is him, and he relishes in watching such a pretty little mouth move with his sentences. 

_"M y   S t a r .   M y   p e t .   M y   s w e e t ,   l  i t t l e   M a b e l   P i n e s ."_

He gushes the poison across her tongue, and it tastes glorious. Glancing down, he notes the bloody vomit in the sink, chuckling with her throat and moving her fingers to smear through the bile and copper mixture.

_"I   w o n d e r . . . "_

Finger to lips to teeth to tongue, and the body of Mabel Pines wants to retch, but the demon inside will not allow this.

__"I s n ' t   t h i s   w o n d e r f u l !"_ _

The tears are involuntary, and he lets them flow into his wicked smile, dragging her soiled fingers through the salt and back into her mouth.

 _"Y o u   d o n ' t   s e e m   t o   t h i n k   s o   r i g h  t   n o w ,"_  he states as her body begins to convulse from the suppressed need to expel the vile liquids he has just forced inside, " _b u t   y o u  w i l l ."_

A quick search of the mirror cabinet has him finding what he needs, and he pats her cheek as the tears pour down.

_"A l l   t h i n gs   i n   d u e   t i m e ,   m y   F a l l i n g   S t a r ."_

 /⊙\

"Dipper! Wait for me!"

Mabel jogs, laughing and bubbling with mirth, after her favorite brother. Her lungs and legs are burning, and the air around is cool with settling dew and twilight promises of magic and mischief. 

"If you don't hurry," the male twin calls over his shoulder, "then we're going to miss them!" 

This has a new energy surging through Mabel's veins, and she bounds, deer-like and agile, through the thinning brush. Fingers of branches snag at her sweater, but she is untouchable at this moment. She is flying. The moonlight is her wings, and she is taking flight through the enchantments of the forest, the queen of its inhabitants, benevolent and beautiful and soaring, soles never again to touch the grou-

 _"Oof!"_ She lands in a heavy sprawl as a protruding root catches her foot, the grit and dirt of the forest floor skidding against her chin and palms with a dull rawness.

"Mabel!" Her brother is quick to her side, but, despite the tears prickling at the corners of her eyes, she insists she is fine, fast to her feet and dragging her unconvinced twin onward.

"It's just a few scratches, I'm fine! C'monc'mon _c'mon!"_

"Are you sure? We should really stop to make sure you're-"

"Bleeegh!! Dipper!" She smacks the brim of his hat, sending it fluttering to the ground, and he swipes it up before rejoining his sister's side.

_"Rude!"_

She rolls her eyes and grabs his hand, pulling him into a paced jog.

"Whatever, bro-bro, I'm just  _not_ going to be the reason we miss this!"

Dipper laughs to himself but says no more on the topic, just as excited, if not more so, to see this incredible phenomenon, though it's debatable for Mabel all but shrieked in pitches to shatter windows when he told her. 

They continue in breathy silence, stealing looks at the moon every so often, the red tint to its edges urging them faster and faster through the last stray bushes of the forest's perimeter.

"Where to now?" They are stood at the edge of the trees in front of a vast meadow of tall, whispering grasses and hidden insects chorusing sweet songs that fill the air with summer comfort. Mabel heaves deep breaths, her knees shaky from the exertion of so much running, as Dipper pulls out the journal.

"Umm, there should be a thicket nearby. Do you see one?"

Mabel stands on her toes to survey the pasture, discerning nothing but uniform silver rippled by a faint breeze that kisses her cheeks. Dipper does the same, but he too distinguishes nothing. 

 _"Hmm..."_ Face scrunched in concentration, he squints at the journal in the deepening orange of the blood-moon eclipse. Mabel, meanwhile, rocks impatiently on her heels, eager to get front row seats to an event that, according to the journal, occurs only once very thirty three years. 

 _"C'monc'monc'monc'mon!"_ She chews at the collar of her sweater and mumbles the words frustratedly. She just  _knew_ something like this was going to happen! Of all the times for Dipper  _not_ to plan everything down to the most minute detail and it had to be the night the rarest species of fairies was scheduled to perform their ritual sacrifice.

"I'm  _trying_ , Mabel just have a little patie-"

A sudden, throaty growl sounds behind them, and Mabel finds herself with a face once again full of dirt as Dipper throws the both of them to the ground.

 _"Dipper!"_ She hisses, but the name comes out as more of a jumble of indecipherable consonants as her brother clamps his hand over her mouth.

 _"Quiet!"_ He commands sharply, dragging her backward before she squirms from his grip to find her own purchase, scrambling after him into the safety of a nearby copse.

"What _is_ it?"

She attempts to break a few twigs obscuring her face, but Dipper grabs her hands, shaking his head and putting a finger to his lips as his eyes gape with fear. Mouthing the question in silent syllables, she asks again just what exactly it is they are hiding from, but he only mouths back an equal confusion. 

They won't have to speculate much longer as the thick snarls draw ever nearer, not so close to incite full on panic, but enough to raise the hair on the twin's arms and riddle their skin in clammy gooseflesh. Even the crickets have silenced their calls, their crisp chirrups replaced by pine needles crunching under dense paw-falls and a predatory snuffling that promises whatever prey the creature has picked up on won't be safe for much longer.

Mabel shifts as soundlessly as she can to huddle closer to her brother who is furiously looking through the journal for answers, though not as fast as he would like, having to turn the pages with constant caution so as not to make any noise. The stalking beast, meanwhile, has ceased its approach but has also not made any semblance of retreat, and now its sounds seem to encompass them from every angle, a far more pressing concern than its current distance-or lack thereof-from their meager shelter.

 _Snap! Snap!_ It circles and snuffles, and the twins are petrified with fear. Dipper's hands shake so badly that he can no longer risk trying to silently turn the pages of the journal, instead choosing to clutch tightly to his twin and pray for a miracle. 

 _"Dipper..."_ Mabel whimpers, unable to help the pitch in her words, and the air goes dead silent, a blood and bones and heart beat silence whose impermeable expectancy pounds in the twin's brains.

 _"I'm sorr-"_ Mabel, for goodness knows what reason, attempts an apology that is quickly stifled by her brother's hands, and she closes her eyes, mentally berating herself as hot tears leak down her cheeks. She can just imagine what the beast is now doing thanks to her, its head and ears perked and alert, testing the air for vibrations and scents so to locate them and tear them to a pulpy mass of identical death. A thousand hideous scenarios race through her mind, a profusion of pain and agony and inevitability that has her and Dipper's bodies rigid with terror, hardly daring to breath. In fact, Mabel's inhales have stopped altogether. Any noise could spell their doom, and she refuses to let herself risk their hiding spot again.

Seconds pass, seconds that feel like millennia, and the twins don't know whether they prefer the silence or the sounds. Either one promises their doom, but a known enemy is far preferable to one that stalks like the night in a vast, unpredictable stillness.

Both heads whip to the left as a soft crunch sounds, their hearts thick in their throats and fingernails digging into one another as they realize just how close the creature actually is. And thank goodness for Dipper's vice-like grip around her lips, for it is the only thing that prevents Mabel from screaming in terror as a howl like a thousand, fiery torments suddenly rips the night in half. 

It pulses through the trees, quaking the pathetic branches of their hideout, shattering their skin and alighting every nerve with the instinct to flee, but they remain rooted where they sit, knowing full well that they could never outrun a beast of such horrendous power. And power it has, for it bays far longer than any natural born canine-for this is what they assume it to be a subspecies of-could possibly hope to.

Through the now undeniably sparse covering of branches, Dipper thinks he can discern a shape, a grotesquely enormous bulge of fur supported by thick limbs and an anvil of a head thrown back to accommodate its howls. But just as his eyes begin to adjust to the bloody light of the eclipsing moon, the creature bounds off into the trees, its cries still echoing, though not from its actual throat, instead sounding as a residual reverberation that crashes through the trees and their bodies long after the beast has departed their vicinity.

Seconds.

Minutes.

Time and heart beats, that is the only world the twins know until Dipper finally relinquishes Mabel's mouth and she doubles over in wild hysterics, sobbing and gasping and confusing the two so that she chokes on her own air.

 _"Mabel!_ Mabel calm down you're gonna hurt yourself!" Dipper forces her to sit prostrate, and she clings to him, burying her face in his shirt as he rubs her back, soothing her in whatever quiet tones he can manage at the moment. After all, he is just as shaken as her, but he at least something of a hold on his emotions.

After a time, Mabel is able to untangle herself from her brother's embrace and wipe her wet face, her sobs having receded to hiccuping sniffles.

 _"I-I'm so sorry."_ She manages in a croaked voice. _"It was- I almost-"_

" _Shhh_ , no, Mabel, no..." Dipper shakes his head and takes her by the shoulders. "It wasn't your fault. That...  _thing,_ whatever it was, it had every chance of finding us whether or not it had heard you."

There is comfort in the words, but it quickly dissipates, an identical chill possessing them as they realize how exposed they are. Out here. In the middle of the forest. With a beast on the prowl and their vulnerable bodies a supple treat for its crushing jaws.

Dashing back to their hideout, Dipper grabs his journal and then his sister's hand, pulling her into a swift but silent run in the direction they had come. The night was supposed to be fun, the glow of the mysterious moon a velvet comfort as they witnessed another one of the journal's spectacular anomalies, but now, as every creak of a branch and snap of a twig becomes the creature hot on their heels, the moon does not seem so beautiful, instead seeping their blood into the clouds, and the night's magic has turned decidedly sinister.

"I think. We're. _Safe!"_ Mabel gasps as they run, but Dipper will take no risks, urging her onward through the blackening trees. "I _can't_. I-" Her body, having endured far too much strain already from her prior panic attack, is not fairing well under the strenuous pace Dipper is forcing her to maintain, and it isn't long before her sweaty palm slips from his as she falls to her knees to catch her convulsing breaths.  

"Mabel!" He spins on his heels, abandoning his caution and vigilance of the malicious forest, and kneels beside her. "Mabel, c'mon, we have to go. It's not safe, we gotta-"

Both are startled to a bone stiffening attention at the sound of crunching needles and a malicious growl, and, before she can even register what is happening, Dipper yanks Mabel to her feet, shoving her behind a large tree trunk. But it is not large enough to accommodate the both of them. Not at all.

_**"DIPPER!"** _

The voice is not her own, can't possibly be. The pain and shear horror that it conveys at a volume that should not be humanly possible... it simply and undeniably is not true. What she bears witness to, the color and sounds and smells, those aren't real either. They aren't, because they can't be.

The mass of fur that barrels from the trees just as her brother conceals her...

The claws like unkempt daggers...

The teeth gleaming with malice and eyes ringed in bloodlust...

None of it...  _none._

The gurgles and snaps and pulling rips that shred her ears? Completely fabricated, and she knows this because, if it were real, she would be at her brother's aid. She would be throwing herself between the beast and him, a vicious animal to match this one. To protect her brother. Because... because that is what she would do if this were real. She would do what _he_ would do were she in danger. She would risk her life to save his. 

She would.

She _would._

And so she lets the beast alone, because she simply needs to wait for the hallucination to run its course. There is no point in acting on something that isn't real. The only thing she can do is let the false screams fall on deaf ears, the carnage to blinded eyes, the coppery smells to a nose wrinkled in distaste of such a cheap show.

_To ears that scream._

_To eyes that burn._

_To a nose infected and putrid._

That is all.

To watch. To wait. Because it is not real.

None of it is.

*

A throaty howl. Satisfied. Sharp. Tinged with blood and putrescence.

She listens.

_With ears that scream._

Inhales.

_With a nose infected and putrid._

Looks.

_With eyes that burn._

The beast gallops away, sated and sadistic, and the girl emerges from her safety, disbelieving yet doubtless.

The first thing is silence, a calm after the storm and prior to an ensuing one.

First, the silence. That's usually how these things proceed.

/-\

She awakens to a quiet room, to a ceiling stuck with mold that has not intrigued her for weeks now and a nuzzling pig snout that no longer stirs her heart with glee. Not that she has a heart anyway.

The light through the window tells her it is just approaching gloaming, a soft peach of an evening that is as warm and fuzzy as she will never again be, and she pulls the blankets over her head, not intending to sleep, but hoping she can somehow slip into a coma and escape the world for a while. But neither in here nor out there can she find reprieve, her closed eyes opening her mind to the wretched past, while open they portray a hideous present and equally desolate future. That doesn't mean she can't still try, that she can't huddle deep into thick, quilted layers that wrap her stale body in a false sense of comfort.

And heat. Sticky, humid, unrelenting heat, her body's respiration trapped around her like a greenhouse and her skin slick with sweat.

She groans and folds further in on herself, but the heat! It is unbearable! The stick of blankets to her skin and skin to scratchy sweater and how thick it seems to coat her arms and fingers, dripping and congealing and sticking sticking sticking and-

_Oh god._

sticking...

_Oh merciless, godless heaven._

In an unnecessary disbelief, she tears off the covers, chin trembling out of instinct even before she sees the substance that stains her body and sheets alike. 

Tears slithering hot down her face, she surveys the damage, following the patterns and smears though she needn't really do this. She knows exactly where the blood begins, though has yet to ever see an end.

 _"You son of a bitch."_ She whispers as she turns her wrists in the last light of the far too early evening.  _"You son of a bitch."_

The gashes are deep, but never deep enough to actually kill her, serving as more of a reminder of what he is capable of. What he can do.

_And will continue to do over and over and over and over and over and overandovera nd ov_

_e_

_r_

Trembling and wincing in simultaneous cue, she gingerly touches the scarred skin, raw, tender, and crusted, yes, but still leaking, never to fully heal. And they are so crude. She would think them to be cleaner, conducive to a desire she assumes him to have for all things as uniform as he, but the slashes have been given no more thought other than to ensure their six, nonidentical gouges form two, nonidentical triangles. His brand of ownership that will mark her forever.

It surprises her how quickly the shock passes, replaced by an immediate and heart thrumming panic that she will, quite literally, be caught red handed by her brother if she does not clean this mess. So, stumbling to her feet, she sets to work. Or, at least she tries to. First is the difficulty of maintaining her footing- _H_ _ow much blood did I lose?-_ as her stance sways and her throbbing arms do nothing to maintain her balance. She falls to her knees, bending forward on all fours and pulling ragged shards of breath through her nose as her forearms quiver, blood slithering onto the hardwood.

_Shitshitshit._

She manages herself prostrate, but at the same time, finally registers the pain, a deep, burning, pulsing fire that scorches her wrists like shackles of lava and sings up her skin all the way to her teeth. She cries aloud and bites her tongue to curb the howls that form in her throat, but it is a fire she cannot contain for long.

_Dipper-I have to-see me-Bill_

Through a white haze, she still understands the severity of her situation and the horrific repercussions if Dipper sees this, and she urges her body to cooperate. 

_"I t ' s   u s e l e s s ,   S h o o t i n g   S t a r ."_

Her mouth speaks the hideous voice.

_"Shut up!"_

Her fingers curl into fists against the splintered floor, her nails scraping and shredding but she does not care.

_"You son of a fucking bitch just leave me alone!"_

_"D o   y o u   h o n e s t l y   t h i n k   I   w o u l d   d o   t h a t   a f t e r   h a v i n g   a l r e a d y   c l a i m e d   y o u ?"_

Her hands lift of their own accord and he uses her ragged nails to scrape at the scabbing wounds.

_" **STOP PLEASE!"**_

Hot, white sparks pepper her vision as flames consume her nerves, igniting her arms to the point that they almost feel cold. Her vocal chords sear in equal agony and she collapses to the floor, convulsing, her body red from the inside out as blue flames consume her.

 _"Please!"_ She chokes.  _"Please stop! Please!"_

And just like that, he relinquishes his hold on her arms for her to pull them to her stomach, burying the blood in her sweater, her nails to her chest where she can feel them and know they are not at her wrists.

_"Y o u   s e e m   t o   k e e p   f o r g e t t i n g   w h o   I   a m   a n d   w h a t   I   a m   c a p a b l e   o f ."_

Her mouth moves and his words envelop her. 

_"B u t   d o n ' t   w o r r y ,   m y   l o v e l y   S t a r ,   I ' l l   a l w a y s   b e   h e r e   t o   r e m i n d   y o u ."_

_"A l w a y s ."_

He leaves her on the floor, broken and breaking and exhausted, and she attempts to sit up only to find her deceitful body completely unresponsive.

_No no no..._

The room around her spins and pulses and fades and throbs back into view over and over again, and the smells are so sharp on her tongue that she want to gag, she  _wants_ to, but she can't.

She can't anything anymore, can only lie and wait for an inevitability she tried so hard to impede. And all will be as it was meant to for there is nothing she can do but exist within the confines of reality where Heaven and Hell harmonize in such beautiful agony, and she is but the song that floats from their parched throats through the winds of a universe that cares not for anything it created and likely never will.

/⊙\

_"I t ' s   a s   m u c h   y o u r   f a u l t   a s   m i n e   t h a t   S h o o t i n g  S t a r   e n d e d   u p   l i k e   t h i s ,   P i n e   T r e e ."_

"How can you _say_ that! How can you say _any_ of this! _How could you **do** this her!"_

_"D o d g i n g   t h e   b l a m e   a   b i t   a r e n ' t   w e ,   k i d ?   I   w a s n ' t   t h e   o n e   w h o   d i e d   a f t e r   a l l ."_

_"Shut up!_ You _monster!_ You're _disgusting_ you're evil _you're you're-"_

_"Y o u   s h o u l d   b e   a   b i t   m o r e   g r a t e f u l   b e c a u s e ,   l a s t   I   c h e c k e d ,   I   s a v e d   y o u r   l i f e ."_

"You did _not!_ _Mabel_ did!" _  
_

_"S o   y o u   a d m i t   i t ?"_

"Admit _what!?"_

_"T h a t   y o u   d i d   t h i s   t o   S h o o t i n g   S t a r ?"  
_

" _Stop_ calling her that! Her name is _Mabel!"_

_"T o   y o u ,   m a y b e ,   b u t   s h e ' s   m i n e   n o w ,   a n d   I   c a l l   h e r   w h a t   I   l i k e ."_

**_"She is not yours!"_ **

_"S h e   b e c a m e   m y    p r o p e r t y   w h e  n   s h e   m a d e   a   d e a l   t o   s a v e   y o u r   l i f e .   H e r   s o u l   b e c a m e   y o u r s   a n d   I   b e c a m e   h e r ' s .   S h e   i s   m i n e   t h r o u g h   t h e   b o n d s   s h e   f o r g e d   h e r s e l f .   O f   c o u r s e ,   y o u r   d e a t h   a c t e d   a s   t h e   p e r f e c t   p e r s u a s i o n  -  f o r   w h i c h   I   s i n c e r e l y   t h a n k   y o u ,   b r a v o ,   P i n e   T r e e   I   m e a n   r e a l l y  -  a n d   w h e t h e r   y o u   c a r e   t o   a d m i t   i t   o r   n o t ,   y o u   p l a y e d   t h e   b i g g e s t   r o l e   i n   h e r   d e m i s e ."_

_" **STOP SAYING THAT!"**_

_"B u t   t h e   q u e s t i o n   r e m a i n s ,   a r e   y o u   w i l l i n g   t o   p a y   h e r   b a c k ?   F o r   a l l   h e r   s u f f e r i n g ,   f o r   a l l   t h a t   y o u   n o w   o w e   h e r . . .   A r e   y o u   s e l f l e s s   e n o u g h   t o   s a v e   y o u r   s i s t e r ?"_

**_"I HATE YOU!"_ **

_"W e ' v e   e s t a b l i s h e d   t h a t ,   i t ' s   t i m e   t o   m o v e   o n   t o   m o r e   p r e s s i n g   c o n c e r n s ."_

**_"Burn in hell."_ **

_"I **a m**    H e l l ,   k i d ,   t r y   a g a i n .   S o !   H e r e ' s   t h e   d e a l .   Y_ _o u   c a n   s u b m i t   t o   m e   a n d   s a v e   y o u r   s i s t e r ,   g i v e   b a c k   h e r   s o u l   a n d   a c c e p t   m e   i n   i t s   p l a c e ,   o r   y o u   c a n   l i v e   w i t h   t h e   m o n s t e r   I   h a v e   m a d e   h e r   f o r   t h e   r e s t   o f   y o u r   m i s e r a b l e   l i f e ,   k n o w i n g   y o u   c o n d e m n e d   h e r   t o   a   f a t e   w o r s e   t h a n   d e a t h ."_

**_"You son of a bitch."_ **

_"M m ,   s h e   s a y s   t h a t ,   t o o  -  w h e n   I   a l l o w   h e r   t h a t   i s .   M u s t   b e   a   t w i n   t h i n g ."_

_"Shut the **fuck** up! _ Just leave my sister **_alone_** _!"_

_"T h e n   y o u ' v e   m a d e   y o u r   d e c i s i o n ?"_

_"What?!_ No! I didn't- _I..."_

_"L o o k ,   k i d ,   e i t h e r   w a y ,   y o u   l o s e ,   b u t   w o u l d n ' t   y o u   r a t h e r   s a v e   y o u r   s i s t e r   t h a n   w a t c h   h e r   s u f f e r ?   L o o k   a t   h e r   h a n d s ,   l o o k   a t   t h e   b l o o d ,   l o o k   a t   w h a t   y o u ' v e   d o n e   t o   h e r .   A r e   y o u   r e a l l y   s e l f i s h   e n o u g h   t o   a l l o w   t h i s   t o   c o n t i n u e ?   A c c e p t   m e   a n d   s a v e   h e r ,   o r   w a t c h   h e r   p e r i s h   a t   y o u r   o w n   h a n d s .   I t ' s   y o u r   c h o i c e ,   k i d ,   a n d   m y   f i n a l   o f f e r ."_

_**"I hate you."** _

_"W e ' v e   e s t a b l i s h e d   t h i s .   N o w ,   a r e   y o u   f i n a l l y   r e a d y   t o   m a k e   a   d e a l ?"_

/⊙\

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2\. Pray that you and your loved ones will survive the repercussions.


	4. Favors Fulfilled, Favors Owed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 3\. Realize that none of them will.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please pardon such a late update. School is suddenly so overwhelming and writer's block was being an asshat. Also, if anyone's interested, I have a very dark (and by dark, I mean blackhole dark) billdip fic in the works, so expect to see that starting sometime soon. ;3
> 
> (And I apologize for any spelling/grammatical errors. It's 1 am, and if I have to read this thing over again, I just might light something on fire.)

Mabel has never felt so hopeless.

From the moment she first peels back her crusted eyelids to the sounds of shrieking rain and percussive thunder outside the attic window, she can already tell it is going to be a gruesomely despairing day. Wincing as she dares to move her stiff limbs, she makes to sit up with what little energy she can muster only to cry aloud as fire laces her arms from wrist to elbow, collapsing again with hot tears clinging like molten glass to her eyelashes.

Lower lip trembling, blinking harsh and erratic to clear her viscous vision, she pulls back the quilts ensnaring her hands to find thick bandages encasing both of her forearms. Spots of red wink at her in crude blotches as it stains through the cotton, but the blood is the least of her concerns, is so very menial at this moment that she almost forgets the wounds that have provoked it in the first place.

With a meekness quite unlike any she has felt in some time, she pulls her knees to her chest and weeps, her body spent and exhausted and yet with just enough strength to register the implications of the bandages and the consequences soon to come. The foreboding air hangs thick around her, humid as the storm that rages outside, and yet chilling to her core as a thousand horrors whisper from the darkest corners of her broken mind. They urge at her, cajoling and teasing, and there is nothing she can do to prevent them from poisoning her with their morbid promises for she has never felt so  _hopeless._

Genuine grief plastered to her face, she manages to lift her head and glance sideways, searching for her beloved brother, but where his identical body should lie asleep exists instead a tangle of blankets and torn pillows. She thinks she might even see specks of blood, but then she no longer trusts her judgement not to be corrupted, and so it might just be that the pillows were always slashed wide and leaking their cheap stuffing, and the spotty red, simply a new ink he was perfecting for the journal, accidentally spilled in his typical haste. 

Yes... yes that must be exactly it, because any other reason spells doom and they are not doomed.

_Okay._

She breaths the word behind her eyes before allowing it to exhale into the world. It doesn't last long, quick to return to her tongue in a startled inhale as a gash of lightening illuminates the room, a crack of thunder following soon after that shakes the foundation of the house. 

Normally, a storm of such magnitude would thrill her, eyes rounded saucers as she would sit by the window and gape at Nature's might with her brother. But now, in the empty room with only her thoughts as company, and a poor one at that, she feels so small and vulnerable and utterly alone amidst the world's chaos.

_Alone._

Her entirety steels itself against the truth, beaded tears crystallizing in the corners of her eyes.

_I'm... alone._

She knew this even before now, she  _knew_ that she knew, but, try as she might to ignore the gaping silence that yawns in her head, its vastness consumes her, revealing her to the fact that he is no longer there. His spidery voice and fingers, their hideousness stroking her brain and squeezing her heart, falsifying her movements and stealing her words... not even a wisp of him remains. Only her. Only Mabel.

This should come as a relief, but it never does, for what relief can she find in knowing that her brother has, once again, taken her burden? 

_Damn you, Dipper._

Heat leaks down her face as she rocks ever so slowly.

_God damn you. Why did you have to do this again? Whywhywhywhywhywhy?_

But sitting and questioning serves no purpose other than to fully convince her of the peril her brother has put himself in.  _Again._

 _ **"God damn you!"**  _She is quick to her feet despite her balance's protesting, tearing the words from her chest and spitting them to a world that  _will_ accept them this time. "You _son_ of a _bitch_." She growls to the empty room, fists clenched and teeth set tight as springs. "You son of a _**bitch**!"_

She can almost hear his laughter, distorted with her brother's own, can almost see their smiles dripping together like filthy wax. Eyes of sun and slitted void gleam from every direction, trained on her and leering with their boastfulness, and their voices come as one, slithering into her ears with a poisonous prophecy nearly fulfilled.

_Y o u   t h o u g h t   y o u   c o u l d   g o   f a r   e n o u g h ,   S h o o t i n g   S t a r .   Y o u   t h o u g h t   y o u   c o u l d   c o n q u e r   a n y   l e n g t h   t o   s a v e   h i m   f r o m   m e ,   a n d   y e t   h e r e   h e   i s ,   m y   s l a v e ,   a n d   h e r e   y o u   a r e ,   a   w o u n d e d   l i t t l e   l  a m b ._

_B u t   t h a t   d o e s   n o t   m e a n   y o u   a r e   n o t   s t i l l   b o u n d   f o r   s l a u g h t e r .   J u s t   p e r h a p s   a n o t h e r   t i m e ?_

_A n d   d o n ' t   w o r r y ,   I   a l w a y s   k e e p   t h e   b u t c h e r ' s   k n i f e   s h a r p .   J u s t   a s k   y o u r   b r o t h e r ,   h e   c a n   c e r t a i n l y   v o u c h   f o r   t h a t ._

**_"Shut up!"_ **

His laughter crackles like fire, and she screams her words wherever his carry. 

**_"Shut up shut up shut up!"_ **

She collapses to her knees, hands clamping over her ears as her body doubles over.

_"You can't have him you can't you can't I won't let you!"_

Her words shiver from her lips, a silver mistake in the pyrite air, but they are all she hears, for his taunts have ceased. 

_"You hear me you son of a bitch?"_

He does, but then what fun is there in letting her know?

_"I won't let you. Not this time."_

She struggles to her feet, donning a pair of shoes as fast as she can, a feat not so easy with the way her fingers quake and vision swims, and races from the room, or at least attempts to, moving as fast as her body will allow, but never fast enough and always toward her doom.

_"Not this time, you son of a bitch. Not this time."_

And maybe she is right. But history has a way of repeating itself, so it's more than likely she is so very, deliciously, blood soaked and skin split wrong.

/⊙\

Bill always did love storms, the way the world throws itself into a frenzy of water and wind, the lightening that stabs the sky and dances with thunder that shatters the airwaves. It makes one feel truly alive to be out in such a chaos, with rain spattering the skins of Nature, both plant and human alike, for in Mother's eyes, they are one of the same. He, too, regards them as such.

Especially his Pine Tree. 

_F a s t e r !_

He urges his vessel's legs at speeds not conducive to its form, a pity since this is the least he intends for it to endure, and only reluctantly does it obey, carrying them deeper into the forest's crashing form, its groaning branches and heaving roots; mud and rocks and animals burrowed safely and hidden from Nature's mightiest of monsoons. But not this animal. No, this one will not hide ever again, not now that it has been found.

_O h ,   P i n e   T r e e ,   i s n ' t   t h i s   w o n d e r f u l !_

From the prison within his own mind, the part of the vessel that is still Dipper Pines does not even have enough energy to respond. He'd forgotten just how brutal the demon could be with his body, but never had he thought it to be this excruciating to _share_ , and relief washes over him as the demon commands them to a halt. It doesn't last but a mere fraction of a second as a dull pain blooms into a bright fire just above his left elbow, and he hears a thick ripping of skin as something carves into him.

He shrieks from his prison, begging Bill to stop, tears leaking from his physical body with the demon's smile drawn wide and permanent on Dipper's own, deceitful lips. He wants to collapse from the pain, to clasp his hand over the oozing wound, stung hot and searing by the driving rain, but has no control, can do nothing but endure, and even that ability is dwindling quickly.

 _Please._ He gropes through the encompassing darkness, searching for a sign, for anything that might indicate the demon hears him and will, at the very least, negotiate. He's always one for deals, after all.

_O h ,   s o   n o w   y o u ' r e   g o i n g   t o   b e   p o l i t e ?_

A drop of yellow in his nothing world, suspended and ceaseless, and he shrinks back from it as the demon's voice resonates from this golden entity.

_W e l l ?_

Dipper's voice falters as he searches for words, and the demon's impatience drives the pain in his arm deeper and wider, promising to damage something vital if he does not respond soon.

_I   d o n ' t   t a k e   k i n d l y   t o   r u d e n e s s ,   P i n e   T r e e ._

Twisting, raging fire. Blood polluting the virgin waters that pour from the sky.

_P a i n ,   h o w e v e r ,   I   c o v e t ,   s o   i t ' s   h a r d l y   a n   i s s u e   f o r   m e .   Y o u ,   o n   t h e   o t h e r   h a n d . . ._

Dipper's throat constricts against the screams that try to tear from it, and his knees quake as two sets of equally adamant demands confuse them. Stand. Fall. They can't decide, but Bill is far stronger, and Dipper's resolve is waning steadily with each drop of blood that slips from his wounded arm. 

 _Bill please._ He croaks through cracked lips.  _I'm s-sorr..._ The words die before he can complete them, and this isn't even a voluntary decision.

 _Y o u   c a n   d o   b e t t e r   t h a n   t h a t ._ The demon scoffs, twisting whatever he has impaled into the boy at a grotesque angle. He allows the scream this time, a tune to harmonize with the crashing trees and rain, grinning at the response, never one to leave sentences unfinished, and it seems just the push Dipper needs to complete his plea.

_**Please, stop! I'll do anything! Please, Bill, please!** _

The demon allows the vessel to succumb, and it drops to its knees. Bill had always been fond of groveling, his victims servile and begging, and he is almost sad that he can't actually see his Pine Tree on all fours. Oh well, it's a minor sacrifice for a body all his own.

Tossing aside the dull stick he had been using to correct his pet, Bill relaxes and grants Dipper a moment to himself if only just to relish in the squeals and whimpers as the boy examines the splintered puncture he so lovingly administered. It's a gorgeous wound, really, a twisted sight of blood and shredded skin, and it's likely all of the debris will never be fully removed. Both conciousnesses that reside within the vessel know this, but their attitudes regarding the matter are vastly different.

 _Y o u   k n o w   I   c a n   d o   s o   m u c h   w o r s e ._ The demon comments idly, giggling when he feels the boy's fingers tense against a particularly large splinter. There is an apprehensive tug proceeded by a muffled scream as the piece rips a fair chunk of flesh, prompting an even steadier flow of blood. Fresh. Copper. Acid.

He couldn't be happier.

Taking control once more, he plunges the vessel's nails into the laceration, burying the grime that coats his pet's fingers deep into his vulnerable body as he releases a throaty laugh, and Dipper's wails of agony only enhance it further.

_P a i n   i s   j u s t   s o   d a m n   h i l a r i o u s !_

He squeezes the swollen flesh, tugging and releasing, toying at the wound and smearing blood that washes away far too easily with the rain.

In the recesses of his mind, Dipper is folded in on himself, shrieking yet oddly numb for all the fire that roars within his arm. 

 _B u t   y o u   d i d   a s k   m e   p o l i t e l y ._ The demon sighs, removing the fingers with a sickening suction. _A n d   I ' m   n o t h i n g   i f   n o t   f a i r ._

Dipper lets out a hysterical scream, both parts relief and torment that combine to create a searing venom. He only has a moment to register it, however, as the demon once again takes control and urges the vessel to its feet, immediately pursuing a swift jog that has his heart beating out of his arm.

 _M a y b e   i f   y o u ' r e   g o o d ,_ the demon muses, voice resonating in the black expanse that keeps Dipper confined, _I ' l l   a l l o w   a n o t h e r   b r e a k .   T h o u g h ,_ he cackles both in and out of the vessel, sharing his jubilation with Nature's might, _I   c a n ' t   p r o m i s e   t h a t   i t   w i l l   b e   a n y t i m e   s o o n .   B u t   l e t ' s   j u s t   s e e   h o w   m u c h   y o u   c a n   t a k e   b e f o r e   y o u   c o l l a p s e ,   h m ?_

Of course, the demon speaks in reference to Dipper's physical form as the boy's consciousness blanks out of reality, crumpling in a corner somewhere deep in his mind where the pain and suffering can't touch him. 

Bill will make sure to remedy this as soon as the boy comes to, but for now, he takes joy in having the vessel to himself.

/-\

Mabel both does and does not know where she is going.

Her consciouss state, the one wrought with panic and terror and rage, is blinded, groping through trees that reach to impede her and slash her skin as she fights against them. The storm is reaching its pique, though it's hard to believe it hasn't already for the tantrum it is currently throwing, and Mabel knows she needs to find him before the hurricane force winds topple a tree onto him. Or worse.

She tries not to think what the demon is doing to him, and this is where her subconsciouss takes command.

It is this part of her that drives her onward, following a trail only it knows, guiding her through brambles and mud and prying roots that have her scrambling up from her knees every few feet. Her body is raw and exhausted and wired with electricity. She considers what a lightening strike might do to her. Certainly not kill her, that's for sure. With what she has endured, there is very little that could kill her. 

On the other hand, there is so very much that could kill her.

She is vulnerable.

She is invincible.

She will die tonight, and that is a promise, though not before she has killed him.

Never before she kills him.

She pushes on, knowing everything and nothing of what will and has happened, and everything is already decided and everything will kill her this night.

/⊙\

_I' l l   n e v e r   u n d e r s t a n d   w h y   I   k e e p   p o s s e s s i n g   y o u   u s e l e s s   m e a t   s a c k s ._

The vessel is heaving and rasping, lungs spewing blood lapped greedily by a serpentine tongue off of swollen lips. 

_Y o u   w e a k e n   s o   e a s i l y .   I t ' s   p a t h e t i c ._

He drops the vessel down in a clearing where the roiling clouds swell with cinereal majesty, stabbing the frigid rain into the parched skin of his pet. He permits a moment of silence, at least what the thunder will allow, and lies and stares and lets the rain wash over the vessel. It feels good. So good that he could almost slip into sleep, but it would do no good for the demon to succumb to _that_. Of course, the vessel can't continue. Not in this exhausted state, and he supposes he'll have to allow Dipper back his body for a few moment's rest. Sleep is always a frustrating side effect of gaining a body, but a small price to pay when sharing it means the previous owner can take over while the possessor stays vigilant for any danger.

 _O k a y ,   P i n e   T r e e ,_ the demon reaches a claw into the unconsciousness that envelops what remains of Dipper, _p l a y t i m e ' s   o v e r ._

Bill hooks his talons into the boy's fragility and drags him from the darkness. He merely stirs at first, and then, the pain lighting his senses, proceeds with a blood curdling scream and flailing defiance against his aggressor. With his free hand, the demon rakes his bladed fingernails down the vessle's right cheek, slicing four, perfect lines that ooze thick crimson, the uniformity of which lasts hardly a second as the rain spreads it across the vessel's skin in a smearing sheen of coppery red. Dipper's assault halts almost immediately as the pain registers only for him.

 _T h e r e ' s   a   g o o d   b o y ._ The demon coos as Dipper writhes in agony.  _O h   d o n ' t   b e   s u ch    a   d r a m a   q u e e n ,   P i n e   T r e e .   I ' m   d o i n g   y o u   a   f a v o r   a f t e r   a l l ._

It's hardly that at all, for when Bill allows him control of the vessle, it washes a fresh wave of torment over the teen. Bright and sharp and far too real.

 _Y e e s h ,   k i d !_  Bill laughs as he allows the screams to shred the vessel's throat. _D o n ' t   h a v e    a   h e a r t   a t t a c k !_ _Y o u ' r e   n o t -_ But the demon stops midsentence and scoffs, deciding to keep his last few words a surprise. Though, an infinitely looping death is hardly any sort of surprise, still he supposes it is considering Dipper never retains any memory of prior incidences, cursed as his twin to continue this indefinite torture. 

Ah but it's fun while it lasts, but what is pertinent right now is getting the damn vessel some sleep so they can continue on before Shooting Star catches up, and that's not going to happen if Dipper keeps freaking out like this. He's loathe to stymie the wails of fresh torment, but, all things considered, it's nothing in the grand scheme of things to come, and he silences the frantic teen into a deep sleep, settling in the back of his brain while the vessel recharges, alert and crackling with excitement.

He can't wait to see Shooting Star.

/-\

_Left._

_Dodge._

_Jump._

_Right._

_Jump._

_Stand up._

_hurryhurryhurryhurryhurryhurryhurryhurryhurryhurryhurryhurryhurryhurthurthurthurthurthurryhurryhurryhurryhurthurryhurthurthurthurthurthurt_

These are the entirety of Mabel's remaining thoughts, any semblance of coherence having long since taken back seat to the adamant demands of adrenaline and desperate panic that course through her veins. She still has no clue where she is going, but her legs do, and that's good enough for her. 

The storm has worsened considerably since she first began her little foray, and her eyes stream with hot tears and cold rain alike, teeth scalped and chalky as the wind pummels her face. It only urges her to go faster.

_Gofastergofastergofaster!_

_I'm trying!  
_

_notenoughneverenoughnotenoughneverenough_

She always assumes this to be a form of encouragement, a warning that if she does not get there in time, then there is no hope she will ever be able to save Dipper. In actuality, it is a plea to abandon her suicide mission, to return home and instead let transpire events that are not borne of her enternal fate so at least one of them can have a shot at life. But she selfishly wants them both. Two souls when she knows only one remains. 

_I can still try._

Tempting Fate is never a good idea, but she was never the smart one.

By now, her lungs have surpassed burning, rasping in a state of dull numbness whose each heaving inhale and exhale coats her swollen lips in something acidic and coppery. She drags her sleeve to clear it away and pushes on, deeper and farther, letting her useless body try to prove itself. 

But what if she doesn't find him this time? What if he is gone for good? 

It's very hard not to think of this, her infinite efforts all for naught, this eternal suffering only to result in all future chances pulverized beyond repair.

What if... what if she  _really_ loses this time?

That she would dare even consider this is inane as she bursts into the seemingly unfamiliar clearing that she has been in countless times before, and the relief and dread that washes over her is nothing short of euphoric.

Her reverie lasts but a second as the tree cover that had shielded her from the storm's true violence is no longer there to impede the buffeting winds and knife-gash rain drops, and she stumbles back to the safety of the forests' perimiter, hands cupped around her mouth as she screams her brother's name.

She knows he is here, now she just has to find him.

/⊙\

_U p   u p !   C ' m o n ,   k i d ,   i t ' s   t i m e   t o   s a y   g o o d b y e   t o   y o u r   s i s t e r !_

Bill's rapturous voice shatters the blissful haze Dipper had finally found solace in, and he feels his control once again wrenched from him as Bill throws his consciousness back into its prison, commanding his former body to its feet to... to what? He doesn't even know what the demon is doing, can only wait, curled in on himself, for whatever fresh hell Bill has planned.

He quickly learns the demon has no intention of directing whatever sadistic torment he has in store at him. He knows this as soon as he hears his name, thrown desperate and aching and pleading through the roaring thunder, nearly scattered by the wind, but entirely unmistakeable.

_Mabel._

/⊙\

 **" _Dipper!"_** Mabel shrieks against the wind, and it spits her words back in her face, laughing at her misery, but she persists.  _ **"Dipper** _ where  ** _are_** you!"

She huddles close to the impressive trunk of a stately oak tree, a towering monstrosity stood strong against the gale force winds that flog its branches and swipe at the meek figure seeking what shelter it can find in its stature. There is no way she can search for him in such a violent storm, no matter how close he may be, and she can only hope he hears and finds her.

_pleasebeokaypleasebeokaypleasebeokaypleasebeokay_

She squeezes her eyes shut, hoping in a hopeless world.

/⊙\

_No!_

The vessel stumbles, balance skewed just enough for the driving wind to knock it to its knees. It's a pathetic blow, and one that is quickly overpowered.

 _E x c u s e   m e ?_ The demon growls. _D_ _i d   y o u   s u d d e n l y   g e t   t h e   n o t i o n   t h a t   y o u ' r e   i n   c h a r g e ?_

Where Dipper once cowered, he now takes a stand no matter how thoroughly the demon's rage makes him want to shrivel to the size of a pea and disappear from his impending wrath. 

Steeling his nerves, however, the teen gathers what confidence he has left and prays that his words do not falter as he confronts the demon head on.

_You're not going anywhere near my sister. We made a deal. You only get me, **not** the both of us._

The demon allows a chuckle, though it's notably forced.

 _Y o u ' r e   s o   c u t e   w h e n   y o u   t h i n k   y o u   h a v e   t h e   u p p e r   h a n d   o n   m e ?_ His voice echoes manacingly from all around the terrified boy. _B u t   y o u   s e e , t_ _h e   t h i n g   a b o u t   d e a l s   i s   t h e y   h a v e   a   l o t   o f   l o o p h o l e s .   S u r e   I   s a i d   I   o n l y   w a n t e d   y o u ,   b u t   t h a t   d o e s n ' t   m e a n   I   c a n ' t **p u r s u e**   y o u r   s i s t e r .   I t ' s   l i k e   a   c o u r t s h i p   w i t h o u t   p r o m i s e   o f   a   r e l a t i o n s h i p ,   b u t   i n s t e a d   o f   f l e e t i n g   r o m a n c e ,   t h i s   e n d s   i n   b l o o d s h e d ._

He pats the vessel's cheek with a clawed hand.

_I t ' s   t o o   b a d   h e r   d e m i s e   w i l l   b e   a t   y o u r   h a n d s .   A n d   b y   b a d   I   m e a n   a b s o l u t e l y   w o n d e r f u l ._

Before Dipper can reply, a desperate call interrupts, the sweet sound of Mabel's voice, broken and terrified, and the demon pulls the vessel's mouth into a sharktooth grin.

_S h a l l   w e ?_

He coaxes the vessel to its feet, battling against the wind and rain, staggering toward where Mabel's voice seems to be coming from, and yet Dipper does absolutely nothing, too petrified by what Bill has admitted to try to prevent just that. Only when they round a large tree trunk to see her shivering form clutching itself for dear life does he snap back to reality. But the demon had anticipated this, and lengths of blue flame bind him, leaving him to writhe and struggle in his own, deceitful mind as the demon, predatory and purposeful, moves ever closer to his sister.

/⊙\

The tears are hot upon her cheeks and her vocal chords tear against the raging howls of thunder and wind. 

 _"Dipper!_ Please  _answer_ me!"

She sinks to her knees, back convulsing as she sobs, every imaginable horror playing like movie in her head, and she watches all the ways her brother could die.

_"B u t ,   S h o o t i n g   S  t a r ,   t h a t ' s   s u c h   a    s i l l y   n o t i o  n   t o   h a v e   i n   t h a t   p r e t t y   l i t t l e   h e a d   o f   y o u r s !"_

She scrambles to her feet and whips around, brandishing a knife. 

 _Where the hell did **that**_   _come from?_

She takes little time in questioning the oddity of the weapon, grateful if anything for the meager safety it provides, but an apprehension settles in her shaking grip on the blade's handle as her brother steps from the flailing shadows. However, his blown pupils encompassed by an unnatural yellow hue and the all too chipper voice tell her Dipper is not currently with them, and this steadies her grip, if only just a little.

"Don't come any closer."

The demon merely throws his head back and laughs. 

_"R e a l   c u t e ,   S t a r ,   b u t   y o u   a n d   I   b o t h   k n o w   y o u ' d   n e v e r   d o   a n y t h i n g   t o   h u r t   y o u r   b r o t h e r ."_

He stalks forward, slow, calculated steps that she matches, moving backwards, veering to the left, circling the safety of the tree as he pursues with palms outstretched and upturned in a placating gesture that she knows would as soon as strangle her if given the chance.

"I said stay _back!"_ She makes a fumbling swipe with the knife to emphasize her point, and her brother sneers at her.

_"Y o u   t h i n k   t h a t   s c a r e s   m e ?"_

He turns his arm to her, and in the stolen light of the raging storm, she sees the gaping laceration that oozes on her brother's arm.

"You **_bastard!"_** She wails, fresh tears and mucus pouring down her face as her mind fabricates the screams and protests Dipper must have made when Bill did this to him. **_"You fucking monster!"_**

Her brother bows and smirks. 

_"T h e   o n e   a n d   o n l y ,   k i d .   I ' m   p u r e   n i g h t m a r e ,   n o w   h a n d   o v e r   t h e   k n i f e   a n d   l e t ' s   t a l k   l i k e   c i v i l i z e d   a s s h o l e s ,   h m ?"_

**_"Stay the fuck away from me and get out of my brother's body!"_ **

She waves the knife in a blind rage, more than horrified when she slashes him across the abdomen, dropping it in her disbelief that she has injured her brother.

 _"O h . . .   o h ,   S t a r . . ."_  It's nearly impossible for the demon to keep the mirth from bubbling over in his feigned despair.  _" W_ _h a t   h a v e   y o u   d o n e ?"_ He brings her brother's hands to where the blood wells through his shirt, and they, too, turn a sticky crimson, muddled by the rain that plummets through the thick branches shielding them from above. 

And his smile never falters.

/⊙\

He has to fight it.

He has to beat him.

He has to...

_try_

_fight_

_struggle_

_succumb_

_fight_

_painpainpainpainpain_

_her sobs_

_Mabel_

_bloodblood_

_Mabel_

_fight_

_try_

_fight_

_win_

_lose_

_try_

_Mabel_

/⊙\

_"Oh god, Dipper..."_

Her face falls in on itself as she staggers backwards, a strange buzz in her ears, scattering any sense of coherence that does nothing to shield her from the truth.

_"Ohmygodohmygodohmygod..."_

She sinks to her knees, shaking hands cowering at her shocked mouth, trembling as her vision blurs with no hope of focusing, and the demon takes it upon himself to gather the knife and press it lovingly to her throat, fingers tangling in her hair and yanking back to expose more of her flesh to his blade.

 _"I   t o l d   y o u   t o   g i v e   t h i s   t o   m e ."_  He scolds her like a disapproving parent.  _"N o w_ _l o o k   w h a t   y o u   d i d ?"_

A warmth trickles down her neck and pools at the hallow between her collar bones, a neat little well for her sins to collect in.

 _"W h a t   k i n d   o f   m o n s t e r ,"_ he jeers,  _"w o u l d   t r y   t o   k i l l   t h e i r   o w n   b r o t h e r ?"_

He shakes the vessel's head sadly, scattering water droplets from matted hair, clicking his tongue.

_"W h y ,   S h o o t i n g   S t a r ,   y o u ' r e   a l m o s t   a s   b a d   a s   m e !"_

Her eyes are pinched shut, but her mouth gapes in breathy panic, and it inanely attempts to defy him.

_"W h a t   w a s   t h a t ?"_

He pulls sharply, a threatening grip that promises to tear away chunks of her scalp if provoked in just the right manner. Leaning his stolen ear to her swollen lips, he adds pressure to the blade that makes her hiss a sharp inhale.

_"C o m e   n o w ,   S t a r ,   t h e r e ' s   n o   n e e d   t o   b e   s o   r e t i c e n t ."_

She shakes her head ever so slightly, and he only grips tighter.

_"I'm not..."_

The words are barely audible above the din of the thunder and slapping rain, but he doesn't need to hear to know what she means.

 _"Y o u ' r e   n o t   w h a  t ,   S t a r .   Y o u ' r e   n o t   r e s p o n s i b l e ?   Y o u ' r e   n o t   s o r r y ?   W h a t   d o   y o u   t h i n k   y o u   a r e n ' t ?  I   c a n   t e l l   y o u **e x a c t l y   w h a  t** ,   b u t   I   w a n t   t o   h e a r   y o u   s a y   i t   f o r   y o u r s e l f ."_  His whisper is slick with what the wrong person might perceive as seduction, but to her, it is gritty oil polluting her body from the outside, in.

**_"I   w a n t   t o   h e a r   y o u   s a y   i t ."_ **

She clenches her fists, a fiery rage building, and her answer grates through her teeth before she does the stupidest thing she could possibly do in the current situation.

_"I'm not like you, you son of a bitch."_

With a surprising strength, one that should not even be given her current emotional and physical state, she twists from his grasp, losing a fair wad of hair and probably some skin, but freeing herself nonetheless. Scrambling to her feet, she quickly surveys the ground and grabs a thick branch, brandishing it like a sword as her brother's body stands slowly, cocking its head with a smile slashed across it. But, strangely, the demon doesn't pursue, merely stares with a lopsided grin.

Her body is rigid with adrenaline and fear, a potent mixture that just barely makes her a match for the demon's fighting prowess, but why isn't he attacking? She is not about to make the first move, to do so would reveal her desperation if it isn't already written plain on her face, but this sudden lull in tension has her more unnerved than when the blade was to her throat.

_Oh god._

It hits her all too suddenly.

_Oh god no._

And she realizes he isn't meeting her eyes, focusing on a point just below.

_Oh god no no no no nononono_

Her fingers rest where his eyes do, coating in something slick and warm and there is far too much of it. She still hasn't torn her own gaze from the demon inside her brother, and she watches in sickening acceptance as he waves the knife at her, stained at the edge, and brings it to her brother's mouth, lolling out his tongue and running the blade along it.

 _"Dipper..."_ She croakes, left hand clasped around her neck in an attempt to stem the trickling blood, the other reaching meekly forward, begging, pleading.

/⊙\

Dipper strains against his shackles. _B_ _egging. Pleading._

Anything.

He'll do _anything._ Just leave her alone.

Leave her alone.

/⊙\

_"N o w   w a s n ' t   t h i s   j u s t   a   d e l i g h t f u l   t u r n   o f   e v e n t s ?"_

The demon speaks to both of his captives.

 _"N o t   f o r   y o u ,   o f   c o u r s e ."_ He dismisses the possibility of that notion with a nonchalant sweep of his hand, striding forward and landing a foot in Mabel's chest, sending her sprawling back onto to the soaked grass. He promptly crouches next to her, caressing her tear and rain and blood streaked face, tracing his thumb along her cheekbone.  _"N o t h i n g   e v e r   s e e m s   t o   w o r k   o u t   f o r   y o u ,   S t a r .   W h a t   i s   t h i s ,   t h e   t w e l f t h   t i m e ?"_

He clicks his tongue, rolling his eyes in a playful manner.

_"I' d   h a v e   t h o u g h t   y o u   s m a r t e r   t h a n   t h a t ,   t o   r e a l i z e   m u c h   s o o n e r   t h a t   y o u   c o u l d   n e v e r   w i n ."_

He sighs dramatically.

_"B u t   I   h a v e   b e e n   w r o n g   b e f o r e ."_

He considers her then, for all her suffering and tenacity, and it's almost remarkable to him how much she was willing to endure. It's too bad she'll never get another chance, but then the world is nothing if not brutally unfair.

 _"I t ' s   a   s h a m e   w e   c a n ' t   a l l   g e t   w h a t   w e   w a n t ."_ He symphathizes.  _"B u t   I **a l w a y s**   g e t   w h a t    **I**   w a n t ,   s o   I   d o n ' t   r e a l l y   c a r e ."_

What tenderness he had is replaced by vicious gloating, a sneer and sharpness, and he grips her arms where he had so lovingly carved his mark. She squeals under his grasp, but her fighting spirit is quickly waning and her movements are so weak, it would be a waste of time to even bother subduing her.

 _"M y   p o o r ,   l i t t l e   S h o o t i n g   S t a r ."_ He teases.  _"S o a r e d   t o o   h i g h ,  a n d   n o w   s h e   m u s t   f a l l .   A g a i n ."_

He digs his nails in, grinning wildly as she writhes with what energy remains. Pain always elicits that last spark before the inevitable snuffing of the flame's entirety, and like hell he's passing up the chance to watch it fizzle out. Of course, he does have more pressing concerns, like the gash in his vessel's stomach. He may be immortal, but the body he inhabits is not so lucky, so he can't relish in squeezing the last bit of light from her.

He never does, anyway.

Huffing disappointedly, his mouth turns sour, but only for a second before he swoops down and plants a feathery kiss on her dying lips, pressing the knife into one of her shaking hands. A farewell gift, and her sins are the wrapping paper.

Standing truimphantly, he offers her a last bit of comfort.

 _"I   w a s   g o i n g   t o   l e t   y o u   b l e e d   o u t ,   b u t   I ' m   f e e l i n g   g e n e r o u s   s o   y o u   c a n   u s e   t h a t ,"_ he gestures to the knife settled limply in fingers that cannot even muster enough strength to hold it,  _"i f   y o u   w a n t   t o   m a k e   t h i n g s   g o   a   l i t t l e   f a s t e r .  Y o u ' v e   b e e n   t h r o u g h   a   l o t ,   I   t h o u g h t   I ' d   a t   l e a s t   a l l o w   y o u   t h a t ."_

Carved smile, her brother's face no longer his, and she can see the demon's hideous form in every contour of her former brother's visage. But then he is gone, sauntering away to the treeline that sits on the opposite side of the clearing.

She cannot cry, so the sky cries for her.

/⊙\

_**You promised!**  
_

_W h a t ' s   y o u r   p o i n t?_

**_You swore you would only take me!_  
**

_And I did? Jeez, Pine Tree, and you're supposed to be the smart one!_

**_SHE WAS NEVER SUPPOSED TO DIE!_ **

_I   k n o w ,   k i d ,   I   n e v e r   i n t e n d e d   f o r   h e r   t o .   S h e   d i d   t h a t   a l l   h e r   o w n .   I   m e a n ,   w h o   d o e s n ' t   k n o w   n o t   t o   j e r k   a w a y   f r o m   s o m e   s a d i s t i c   a s s h o l e   p r e s s i n g   a   k n i f e   t o   t h e i r   t h r o a t ?_

**_YOU SON OF A BITCH!_  
**

_D o n ' t   m a k e   m e   r e g r e t   r e m o v i n g   t h o s e   b o n d s .   A l s o ,   c a n ' t   y o u   t w o   c o m e   u p   w i t h   a n y t h i n g   e l s e   b e s i d e s   ' s o n   o f   a   b i t c h ' ?   I t ' s   s t a r t i n g   t o   g e t   a   l i t t l e   b o r i n g ._

 

/⊙\

She is vulnerable.

She is invincible.

She will die tonight, and that is a promise, though not before she has killed him.

Never before she kills him.

_I'm coming, Dipper._

With whatever life remains within her and that she will soon not have, she drags herself to her knees, pitching forward onto her palms. She is an animal. Prey and predator as one, and the raging storm her own, personal death march.

_I'm coming._

The knife clutched in her right hand drags through the mud, and she shakily wipes it on the cuff of her shredded sweater, placing it between her teeth because it won't do any good to soil the blood she intends to spill. Because then it isn't salvageable. Then, it can't be recycled.

_I'm coming._

Right hand, left knee, left hand, right hand. She lands on her face as she loses her footing, the blade slicing deep into the corners of her lips and guiding blood into her mouth. She does not clean it, though, because twin's share the same blood, right? Because then it shouldn't matter if her's and his mix?

_I'm coming-_

Nothing matters but her pursuit.

_-for you._

 /⊙\

  _I'll kill you._

_M m h m?_

_Anyway I can._

_T h a t ' s   c u t e ,   P i n e   T r e e ,   b u t   k e e p   d r e a m i n g ._

**_O h   w a i t . . ._ **

 

 /⊙\

Her tears seem to cancel out the stinging rain, and so it is that she can see so perfectly, the clarity almost causing her to wretch. She can discern every detail; the blades of grass cowering beneath the deluge that plunges from the sky, the seams of the clouds that comprise the sky, that swell and threaten to tear themselves apart. She can see the lightening to its very structure, a muddle of strange letters and equations, an eternity's worth of inhuman concepts made human that fork from cloud to ground, bursting in rippling waves of electricity to radiate through the roots of innocent trees.

And she can see him.

She can see the demon.

She sees only the demon.

Not her brother.

Now she only sees him, and this is the only thing that will allow her to do what has to be done.

Not her brother.

Not yet.

Because she has to do this. For the both of them.

 /⊙\

_Y o u   s e e ,   i t   j u s t   d o e s n ' t    m a k  e   a n y   s e n s e .   D o n ' t   k i l l   h e r ,   b u t   a l s o   d o n ' t   l e t   h e r   d i e   i n   s l o w ,   b e a u t i f u l   a g o n y ?   H o n e s t l y ,   y o u   t w o   a r e   s o   i m p o s s i b l e   t o   p l e a s e .   D e a d .   A l i v e .   M a k e   u p   y o u r   m i n d s !_

 /⊙\

For all his cunning and vigilance, he does not seem to notice her crippled form slowly advancing on him. He does not hear the strained squeaks she emits in lieu of full blown howling, but perhaps that's more the wind's doing than her own restraint.

Either way, she does not care, so long as he does not see her.

Not until it is too late.

 /⊙\

_D i d   y o u   w a n t   t o   s a y   g o o d b y e   o r   s o m e t h i n g ?  B e c a u s e   y o u   s t i l l   h a v e   t h e   c h a n c e ,   y o u   k n o w .   I' l l   e v e n   l e t   y o u ,   n o   s t r i n g s   a t t a c h e d ._

_J u s t   t u r n   a r o u n d ._

_S h e ' s   r i g h t   b e h i n d   y o u ._

 

  /⊙\

_Almost there._

He stands so oblivious.

_Almost-_

So unaware.

_-there._

It's going to feel so good. Parting his flesh and listening to the demon scream for mercy, and then she's going to fix this and everything will be better and she will be good again.

Ten feet.

Nine.

Eight.

The final countdown.

Closer. Creeping. Silent. Stealthy.

She can see the backs of his shoes, and a surge of adrenaline courses through her as she leaps to her feet, grasping his shoulder to turn him to face her. With her other hand, she rips the knife from her mouth, opening her cheek to a permanent half smile, spinning it deftly so the blade is to him and plunging it deep into his chest.

All the while, she ensures not to look at him, for if she sees her brother's face, contorted with the pain she only intends for the demon, then she won't be able to finish. So she closes her eyes, mouth gaping and bloody, singing wails of hate and horror as her arm moves of its own, vengeful accord.

As if to aid her insanity, the thunder and lightening and rain cackle in equal measure, the wind gusting and billowing, lifting them up and throwing them down, tossing their bodies to the ground, but maintaining a bias for Mabel as she lands atop her brother. She is quick to gain her bearings and brings the knife down again.

Again.

Again.

_over and over and over and over andoverandoverandoverandoverandoverandovera nd ov_

_e_

_r_

She feels it sink into soft organs, struggle to split bone, stick between tricky ribs, but she is an animal and so is not constrained by the limits of human strength and endurance.

And she sobs for forgiveness. As she restorts her twin to a pile of afterlife, as the blood and viscera splatter and sprays, too copious for even the rain to purify, she begs him to forgive her. That she only means this to help him. That she will make it right this time. That it will be better. That-

**_I'msosorrypleaseforgivemepleasepleasepleaseI'msosorrypleasepleasepleaseforgiveme_**

In her delirium, she still wonders where the knife came from at all and where this might have resulted had she not brought it at all.

She wonders a lot of things as she butchers her brother.

 /⊙\

**_MABEL!_ **

This was the first response.

**_Mabel!_ **

And the second.

_M-mabe-maayy.._

The... fifth? 

Dammit, he'd lost track again. Pity. He always did love tallying Pine Tree's pleas before he dies. It helps pass the time while he waits for Shooting Star to finish. He has to give her credit, though, she's being especially thorough this time!

He must have really riled her up.

He's not nervous, though, knowing full well that she'll come crawling back to him.

She always does. 

Thirteen's gotta be a charm, right?

Well, he'll just have to wait and see, and he has all the time in the world.

 /⊙\

She refuses to look at what she has done, stumbling backwards and crawling a safe distance before she allows herself to collapse fully. The knife is lost on the way, but that's okay, she won't need it again, because this time will be different.

And things already seem to be looking up. The storm is passing, retiring its adamant waters to a soft mist, its percussions to soothing rumbles. Lightening flickers but does not threaten.

Yes.

Things will be different this time.

She promises.

Now she just has to wait for it to begin again so she can make it better this time.

Now it begins.

 /-\

 

 

                                                                                     w        e̢̛̹̲̰͍̯͈̭̼̳̰̩̭̠̲̱̓ͮ͂͒ͣ̋̃ͣ̿ͭ̚ͅ

                     s͜͢͡i̸̛                                                        ho         h    s                    s

     irs t͜͟, th e      l en ce  . T     t' s   ǔ̹̺̇ͣ ͬ̽̑͂̀ͪ̽s u̼̯̪̽̅ ̰̠̪̩̙ṳ̝̪̱͌͂ͤͅͅa̳̮̲̜l                       t           e      t       g      _p̵̡͍͕̹̘͆̈ͧ̇ͯ̋̉͢_

                                                                     l                                          h̢̛̍ͩ͆̿̈́̈̅ͣ͂ͤ̇͋̏̆͘͞҉̪ͅ ͤ ͣ̋͑ͧ̂̌́͞҉͇̟͚̳͍͈̬̙̰̘n͐͐                                                           _r̷̴̺̭̠͇̤̲̮̞͈̙̞̲̜̟̳ͯ͂ͧ̓̈́ͫ͋̋̊ͮ̔̎̌̉̚ͅ_

F̬͇͖̌͆ͫ͌̓͛͘ͅ                                       ha̛̔̍                            y                                         i

                                                                                                              

                                 

                                                                                _o̵͓͎̝͕̯͍̼͉̿͐̔͊̒̓ͫ͐̚̕_

                                                          

                                                                                                                      _c̤̭͍̤̗͎̝ͤ͒͒̆͑ͪ̐̆͒ͩͪͩͯ́̚̚͢͡͞_

                                          _  
_

        _e̮̺̹̳̩̫͕̮̲̻̹̺ͭͥ̏̔̿͐̀ͥ͒̆ͦ̒̉́́͡͝_                                                                                                                                           

 

                                                                                    _ę̴̴̠̱͖͇̳̱͕̺̪ͮ̆̏̆̍͒ͥ̆͘_                                     **  
**

                                                                                                                                                                                                                 _d̵̿ͯ͊ͮ͗̊̓͗͌͢͞҉͙̰̳̤̰̼͕̣̳̟̠_  

                                                                                                                                                                        **  
**

               

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 4.̩̻͖̩̟̊͛ͯ̏ͧͫ̋ͅ ̃ͤͣ̒̊A̖̳̻c̙̫͙̖̲͇͑ͣ̀̚ͅc̪̘̓͒́͗̓̇̀e͚̺ͩͬ̂̑̅̈p͚̜̲͎̏̆ẗ̤̠͚̺͚ͮͩ ̺̦̏ḁ̥̯̹͒̒ͮ͋ṇ̄͂̽ͣ̐̅d͛͛̒̂ͅ ̩ͣ̂͐̉͊͛ͪ r̜͉̅͊̎e̪̻̦̤̹͉͒͑̇p͍̹͒ͨ̿̓̽̆͗e͚̦͈a͓̯͔̍̅ͨ̂ͣt̯̹̥͐̀͌͐ͩ.̭̮

**Author's Note:**

> This was actually just supposed to be a one-shot, but I've decided that breaking it up into chapters will make the format a lot cleaner. Hope you guys like it and you're not too scarred because I have big plans for the ending... Big plans.
> 
> And do please let me know in the comments what you all think of it so far!


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